Ashes to Ashes
by Donny's Boy
Summary: The prequel to Eye for an Eye. Karai has gotten her revenge, and now it's time for Donatello to get his. But what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world but lose his own soul?
1. My Name is Leonardo

"Ashes to Ashes"

By Donny's Boy

Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the plot relating to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and I am making no money from this story. I mean no harm.

Warnings: Mature language, violence, torture, and depicted and non-depicted character death.

Author's Notes: This story is the prequel to (and, of course, canon to) "Eye for an Eye," but it isn't necessary to read that to understand anything here. Enjoy!

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"_Death comes for us all, Oroku Saki, but something much worse comes for you. For when you die, it will be ... without honor."  
—Hamato Splinter, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Movie_

**Chapter 1: My Name is Leonardo**

My name is Leonardo, and I am going insane.

I have now been imprisoned for seven-hundred and forty-six days. I know because I've kept count. She doesn't know that I count, of course. It's my secret. Though I can feel the madness creeping in at the edges of my mind, I keep count so that I can hold on. Hold on to the numbers, with their firm edges and clear boundaries. Numbers are beautiful that way. I've grown very fond of numbers. And of counting.

Counting helps me forget. I want to forget how she … no. No, I will not remember. I won't. My mind is not gone yet. My mind can control this, it can.

Sometimes, to pass the time, I try to think of what death she has planned for me. Each of my brothers has died a different way, so perhaps something novel awaits me. If Splinter were still alive, I'm sure he would say that I am being morbid. And perhaps I am. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.

Seven-hundred and forty-seven.

Feeling that she must be coming soon, I wait. I have calculated out that she visits twice a day, without fail, which is the only way I can keep track of the days. There are no windows or clocks in my cell, and deprived of sunlight for so long, my body has lost most of its ability to track time. Even so, I can always sense when she is near, and she is very near.

Sure enough, I soon hear the footsteps outside the door. As she enters, she flips on the overhead light. My eyes scream in pain, and I quickly shut them. Except for her visits, which aren't very long, the lights are never on and I live in total darkness.

"Good morning, Leonardo."

I don't answer. At some point, not too long into my captivity, I realized that she grows bored when I don't respond. I take a small measure of satisfaction from the fact that, even in my current state, I can deprive her of some of her fun.

Eyes still closed, I hear her approach the rear of the cell, where I am shacked to the wall. With surprisingly gentle hands, she lifts up my head. She pries my mouth open with one hand and uses the other to slide a tube down my throat. Just as I have learned things, so too has she learned. Among other things, she's learned that unless force-fed, I won't eat. But she insists on depriving me of even the slow suicide of starvation.

Seven-hundred and forty-eight.

Odd. I hear someone at the door, yet I don't think that it's her. I do not sense her presence. But I don't understand. No one else but her visits me here. As far as I know, no one else knows that either I or this room exists.

The door opens, and a shadowed figure creeps in. A flashlight clicks on, and I blink rapidly at the sudden burst of light. When my visitor finally reaches the spot where I am shackled, I can just barely make out his face in the dark. I know him. He looks different. He's been badly hurt, and his wounds have scarred over, leaving his skin an unhealthy ashen gray. But I recognize him nonetheless.

I try to remember his name—it's the first time I have tried to remember _anything_ in many months—but I find that I cannot.

"I never forgot about you, Leo," he whispers, voice thick with emotion. "Never."

He sets down the bag he is carrying and takes out some sophisticated-looking tools. Once he's unlocked my restraints, he wraps an arm around my waist and hoists me up. But I immediately go limp in his arms. I have remained motionless for years now, and my muscles have wasted away to nothing. Unfortunately, my rescuer did not seem to anticipate my full weight, little as it is, and he drops me. After a short fall I find myself back on the floor.

"Oh, geez! I'm sorry!"

The truth is, I don't really mind. The floor is nice and cool against my skin. Gazing up at the concerned face hovering above me, I ponder the mystery of this man. He looks like me and not like her, and I know this means something. But I can't quite figure out what. Finally I find my voice, weak from so much time of disuse, and ask, "Who are you?"

He blinks in surprise.

"My apologies," I add quickly, afraid that I've been rude. "I know we've met before. I just can't remember."

With glistening eyes, he reaches down and gently cups my face in his hands. Then he kneels beside me and rests his forehead against my plastron. Though he is perfectly quiet, I can still feel his body shake with his sobbing.

I try to lift my hand, so that I can reassure him, but I'm just not strong enough. I am a failure. I failed to protect my brothers. I failed to escape from this prison. And even now, I am failing. I cannot remember this man, though he obviously remembers me.

Looking up at me, my would-be rescuer shakes his head. "I tried," he gasps through his tears. "I spent the last two years trying to find where she'd hidden you. I've done nothing but eat, sleep, and look for you."

It is has been so long since I'd even entertained the thought of freedom. Now, that freedom lies within reach, I find myself baffled. I do not remember this man, this poor man who apparently has gone through so much effort to get to me. I do not remember anything outside this room.

Perhaps all that time wondering how she would kill me was ill-spent. Perhaps _this_ was my intended death all along. Perhaps I am dead even now.

I study my new companion for a moment longer before I come to a decision. "Kill me."

"What?" His eyes go wide with shock. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I'm not strong enough to go with you," I point out, very reasonably. He doesn't argue with this; he can't. "I have nothing left. Not even myself. Please, just let me die."

"That isn't true, Leo. You have me."

I stare at him in confusion. "But I don't even know your name."

Frustrated, he slams his fist into the floor. "Donatello! I'm your brother Donatello!"

That can't be true, though. My brothers are dead. I smile sympathetically at my friend. He must be confused. I feel bad for him. I understand what it's like to begin to lose one's mind. He must be losing his mind too.

Then something changes. Like the ebb of the tides, the frustration slowly drains from his face, leaving behind a placid expression. He smiles back at me. "You're not Leo," he says, in the awed tone of a scientist making a new discovery. "Not anymore. Not really."

I don't think that's true, but for all I know, he might be right. At any rate, I don't think it would be polite to disagree. Rather I watch in silence as he calmly puts away his tools and rifles in his bag for something else. His hand comes back out with a small dagger. It's beautiful—the handle is dark, intricately-carved wood. I watch with interest as he, still kneeling beside me on the floor, leans forward.

A second later, I feel him lightly kiss my forehead. "She will pay for what she's done to you." His voice is no more than a whisper. "I love you. And I'm sorry."

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Author's Notes 2.0: Slight revision 1/10. My thanks to Jessiy Landroz for pointing out my mistake!


	2. My Name is Karai

**Chapter 2: My Name is Karai**

My name is Karai, and I have lost direction.

I used to know who I was. Though I have been many things to many people, I always knew, at any particular time and place, what I was and where I was going. When I was young, I was the scion of the Shredder. I learned all I could from my beloved master. I trained hard. When I grew older, I was the heir to the Foot. I became a full ninja. I served my master, gladly, proudly. I fought with honor. When my father died, I became his tool of vengeance. I took over the Foot and led them into battle. I tracked down my father's killers and made them pay with their blood.

Except for one.

Perhaps that is where I went wrong. Perhaps.

Now, I have lost direction. I killed the other three, and the fourth remains my prisoner, but this does not satisfy. Quite the contrary. Nothing more remains for me to do. There is the Foot, yes, and Saki Industries. But the real challenge always lay with _them_. They were always the enemy that would not stay defeated. Now they are gone, in either body or mind, and nothing else seems as worthy of my efforts. After one has climbed Mount Everest, what more is there to climb?

I think this is why I keep Leonardo alive. He was, and is, my Everest. He is my last connection to my most true self.

If only Leonardo would cooperate. He won't eat. He won't speak. At first I didn't mind. I could see his eyes aflame, could see his passion flare with the need to conquer me. His refusal to eat or speak was all part of the game. Part of the hunt. But the flame died in Leonardo's eyes a long time ago. Though I tell myself otherwise, I fear that it will not return.

It is a shame, really. I had hoped to deal Leonardo his death in combat, once he finally ate and grew stronger. Now, it appears that he will never again be strong enough to serve as a worthy adversary. A shame, and a waste.

Still, hope springs eternal, does it not? As I carefully arrange his food tray, I think that perhaps today is the day when Leonardo will voluntarily eat. I should kill him. I should end his misery and thereby end the Hamato clan, once and for all. But I cannot. As long as Leonardo lives, so lives my hope.

Without thought or hesitation I approach his cell, entering the code that will unlock the door. I have no need to pause or think. I have been to this room, and I have unlocked this door, so many times that my fingers remember for me. As soon as I step into the cell, however, all my senses snap to attention. Something is different today. I can smell it.

I can smell blood. And I can smell _him_.

Kneeling slowly, I place the tray of food on the floor without a sound before reaching for my katana. Confusion floods my now fully-alert mind. He is dead, yet I can smell him here. Unbidden, my last memory of the intruder pushes to the front of my thoughts.

"_I assume someone as educated as yourself knows the legend of Prometheus?" I had began._

_He said nothing, defiant to the very end. Just like his stupid brothers._

Undeterred, I continued, "Prometheus angered the gods by bringing fire to humanity. That is, he went against nature and heaven itself." I took a step towards him, bent down a bit so that we were eye to eye. "And you, Donatello, have tried to deny nature and heaven as well. You are an animal—a beast—but you have tried to become more than you are."

"_I have become," he replied. He tried to sound unruffled, but I could hear the tiny quiver in his voice._

_I smiled at that and drank in the sweet scent of his fear. "And just as Prometheus meddled in the affairs of the gods, you have meddled in the affairs of my family. For too long now." I picked up a can of kerosene, which I had had my Foot ninja carefully place nearby. "Leonardo killed my father, which is why he will be last to die. But do you know why I have saved you until now? Why you did not die before your two other brothers?"_

"Because you're crazy?"

"_Because while Leonardo delivered the death blow, you were just as responsible. Without your technology, without your knowledge, your brothers would have been no match against the Foot." I begin pouring the kerosene as I conclude, "So it is fitting, Donatello, that you will die by the flame."_

_By the fire that Prometheus so foolishly brought into the world. And as the fire consumed him, his screams echoing in the otherwise empty room, I walked away._

My nostrils flaring, I take a cautious step forward. Then another. I can see very little in the dim room, with only a thin shaft of light coming in from the outer hallway. It glints brightly off the steel of my blade. My eyes scan for the trespasser, noticing as I do so, with some small relief, that Leonardo is sitting in his spot near the far wall. As always. But then I take another step further into the room and pause.

No. No, no, no!

Though it is quite dark, the sight before me is unmistakable. The shackles are off. But more importantly, Leonardo's clenched fist holds a dagger, gleaming with fresh blood. Just as I reach out to my poor fallen warrior, the one I had managed to keep alive for so long, I feel a gentle pinprick against my neck.

I whirl around—but too late. Already I am dizzy. But through the haze I see … no. It _is_ him. He's dead, but it's him. The ghost smiles and, taunting, holds up a now-empty syringe. As my vision turns blurry and my knees buckle, I try to lunge at him but fail. The last thing I hear before I lose consciousness is his voice, every bit as soft and calm as I remember.

"You're too much like your father, Karai. Always claiming victory before it's actually been achieved." His voice is very close; he must be whispering next to my ear. "You should have _checked_ to make sure I was dead."

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Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and for reading. Next chapter is the last and is told from Donatello's perspective. So glad you are enjoying, though this is admittedly very dark stuff.

As for the big question—did Leo kill himself, or did Don kill him and set it up to look like suicide?—Karai will be asking herself the next chapter.

Minor revisions 1/17. Thanks, ELVESRULE.


	3. My Name is Donatello

**Chapter 3: My Name is Donatello**

My name is Donatello, and I am dead.

I did not die, however, when she came to kill me. Not when she dragged me away, just like she did with Raph and Mike, while Leonardo screamed at her, begging her to take him instead. Not when she drizzled me with kerosene as casually as though she was putting dressing on a salad. Not even when she dropped the match.

No, I died a mere few weeks ago, when my last hope died. It's funny what hope can do, isn't it? It can force you to live, to persevere. Or it can abandon you and leave you to die. I lived for the hope of finding Leonardo and freeing him. I knew things could never be what they were, before … _before_. But I could steal back some scrap of my family. I could at least have my brother again. This one goal sustained me through the endless searching and the patient planning.

Not to mention the years of hiding. Hiding from everyone—Leatherhead, the Professor, Casey, April. There are benefits to being dead, after all, and I knew better than to let _anyone_ know I was still alive.

At last, I was able to confirm that Leo was indeed still imprisoned by that monster. I pinpointed the room in which he was being held. Carefully I wrote and edited and reedited a computer virus that would bring down the Foot security systems without leaving the barest trace. Oh, yes, I thought of almost everything. I planned out my infiltration of the Saki building with such care and precision that even Leo himself would have been proud. Had he lived to hear of it.

Actually, after executing the rescue, I'd fully intended to show him those plans. Even now, I can picture it perfectly—Leo smiling his reserved smile, shaking his head gently, pointing out the parts of my plan that could have been revised for even more efficiency.

But as I sit in my underground hideout, I do not have Leonardo for company but instead I have _her_. Not what I bargained for. Not at all. I crouch in a corner and stare bitterly at the katana I managed to find in the Foot's hidden vaults. It lies on the floor in front of me, its broken blade rusted over, the hilt's blue-dyed leather chipped and cracking.

Then, from a few feet away, I hear a moan.

I have always been nothing if not inventive. So, even though I am now dead, I have plotted out a new goal. It won't bring me back to life, but it will give me purpose. At the center of this goal is the woman who is just now waking up.

"Good morning, Karai," I say in greeting. Splinter always had emphasized the importance of good manners.

She moans again before demanding, in a hoarse voice, "Where am I?"

"Somewhere safe. Well, safe for me. At any rate, somewhere you won't be found."

Finally I turn to look at her. Chained in the opposite corner, still groggy from her sedatives, Karai pushes herself to a sitting position. Owlishly she blinks at me. I wait for her to speak, very patiently. I am good at being patient.

"You cannot keep me here," she says at length, in a strangely flat voice. "The Foot will find me."

Standing up, I grab the katana. "You can't find what you don't look for. And I'm afraid no one will be looking for you." I gesture towards the ceiling with the sword. "As far as the topside world is concerned, you're dead."

Just like me. If Raph were still alive, I think he'd appreciate the irony.

Her eyes narrow in anger. "You lie."

I can only shake my head in response. Turning, I pick my way across the cluttered, overcrowded room. A table, some shelves, some chairs covered in clothes, and a small cot all stand in the too-small space. Various small and large electronics projects litter the dirt floor. Though I have lived here for some two years and would never have left my old lab in such disarray, I've never felt a need here to keep things all too tidy. This is not my home. I'm dead; I have no home nor need of one. This is merely my base of operations.

I set the katana down on the table then head towards the small television set perched precariously on top the shelves. The television flashes into garish life as soon as I touch the power button. I slip a cassette tape into the VCR. It's a recording I made yesterday—a special recording for a special guest. As the tape begins playing, I glance back at my captive.

She assumes an indifferent expression, a single eyebrow raised so high that it disappears completely under her jet-black bangs. "And what am I watching?"

"I taped last night's news," I explain conversationally. "I thought you might find it interesting."

On screen, a pretty blonde woman stands in front of the Saki building, holding the obligatory microphone. She very somberly informs us that Ms. Karai Saki, president and majority stockholder of Saki Industries, just passed away. Undiagnosed Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. Tragic.

"You truly went before your time."

Her eyes remain on the television screen. After a moment she says, "This is a trick."

"I'm afraid not."

Meanwhile, the reporter continues her report. "Ms. Saki has left all her shares of Saki Industries to her longtime Tokyo associate, Mr. Don Hamato. Also, in a unanimous vote, Mr. Hamato has been elected as the new president of Saki Industries …"

Karai stares intently at the television screen, a low growl starting in the back of her throat. "This cannot be," she whispers, but she sounds much less certain than she had before.

It is amazing what wonders the modern electronic age has wrought. How easy it is now to locate public records. To forge wills. To create phony identities. Not to mention, to take over entire companies. God, but I do love computers.

With a flick of my wrist, I turn off the television. I think we've both seen more than enough.

Next I pick up a watch from the table. Slipping it over my thick fingers, my wide knuckles, my beefy wrist, I take a deep breath. It's almost show time. I reach out and grab the clothes hanging over the back of the nearby chairs. With fastidious care, I pull on the pants, button the shirt, knot the necktie.

Over in her corner, Karai pretends not to watch. I can feel the air hum with her frustration and confusion, however, just as surely as I can smell the faint scent of her perfume. Lilacs, I believe. Lilacs and a hint of jasmine. Once fully dressed, I turn to face my prisoner, and I throw out both arms in an exaggerated gesture. "So! How do I look?"

"Silly" is her succinct, disdainful reply.

She's probably right. But I've already thought of a way to take care of that. I hold up my wrist. The steel of my watch gleams faintly in the dim light. I twist a dial on the watch and, in a sudden flash of blinding light, I am left staring at a pale hand with five fingers and tiny little hairs.

Though this is not the first time I've tested my portable holographic projector, I still marvel at the sight of my seemingly mammalian hand. I had created the device before Karai had captured us. I'd made it for Mikey, intending for it to be his birthday present. At the time, I had invented it with the thought that my brother would enjoy being able to venture topside more often, in the light of day, without layer upon layer of disguise.

But Mike's dead. He died before he got to find out that I was even making the projector.

Karai's eyes go wide with disbelief. Her jaw works furiously, but she doesn't utter a sound.

I pick up the katana from the table, gripping it tightly. Slowly I approach the corner. When I am a few feet away from Karai, just outside of her reach, I stop and kneel. I place the katana, very carefully, very precisely, on the floor in front of her.

"You are going to kill me with Leonardo's sword?" She cocks her head, considering this. Then she nods in approval. "Yes, that is only proper, I suppose."

"Not quite," I clarify. "I'm not going to kill you with Leo's sword. You are." I grin, and it is the first time I've worn any sort of smile in a long time. "I'm going to torture you. I'm going to wear you down. And only at the very end, when you are completely destroyed and _begging_ to die, will I hand you the katana. Only then. Not a moment before."

I stand back up, and Karai glances from me to the katana then back to me. An odd expression—halfway between rage and admiration—crosses her face. "Well played, Donatello."

"Thank you." Reaching up, I adjust the knot on my tie. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a press conference to attend."

Just as I arrive at the door, my hand on the doorknob, her voice calls out to me. "Did you kill him? Did you kill Leonardo?" I glance over my shoulder. She is staring hard at me, a stray tear trickling down her cheek. "Or did he kill himself?"

Fascinating. This response is … absolutely fascinating. I realize, with a sudden burst of cold hard satisfaction, that if I don't answer, the not-knowing will forever gnaw at Karai's sanity. Armed with this awareness, I reply very softly, "_You_ killed him, Karai."

I slip out into the sewer tunnels without further comment, taking care not to step in any of the dirty water. I'd hate to ruin my new suit, after all. That simply wouldn't do. The new president of Saki Industries needs to make a good first impression. Chuckling, I can't help thinking that Karai had been wrong. She had been wrong about many things, but in particular she had had the wrong myth.

I'm not Prometheus. I'm the phoenix.

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Author's Notes: Yep, Don's words at the end of last chapter were intentionally reminiscent of SAINW—just can't get enough of that episode, it's so good.

My thanks to those who have read and reviewed. In particular, a quick thanks to ELVESRULE for the suggestion about Chapter 2, which I've revised in light of the critique. I hope everyone has enjoyed this story—well, "enjoy" as much as one can enjoy a story like this, at any rate.

I'm thinking of perhaps adding a sequel to "Eye for an Eye," by the way, and already have a few chapters written. Feel free to leave feedback as to whether you might be interested in reading a sequel, or any other story in this particular universe. (My thanks in advance to those who do leave feedback!)


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